Crimson Compass

, its crimson glow seeping through his fingers like blood through a bandage. The needle hadn't budged since he'd climbed aboard, locked on a point somewhere beyond the churning black

h the wind. "What's in your hand? You've got that look-l

to paint their faces red. Torv swore under his breath, nearly dropping an oar, and Marek-who'd been silent as a gravestone

orv growled, wiping salt from his b

t despite the weight in his chest. "Points to some

then clamping shut. Marek's scarred fingers twitched toward his axe, a tic Kael knew meant trouble brewin

her voice low. "You're joki

Kael tilted his head. "Spill

was a warlord-centuries back. Ruled the seas with blood and fire. They say she built a vault to hide her spoils, but it wa

wreck echoed: Or the world drowns in shadow. He shoved it down. Superstition was for f

like a death warrant. You didn't see that wreck shake.

g the compass into his coat. "And I'm not feedin

with every stroke. Kael leaned against the bow, peering into the dark. The storm blurred the line between sea and sky, a wall of cha

like steel on flint. "You trust t

pped around. "W

Marek said, eyes glinting under his h

erceptive-always had been, ever since Kael pulled him from that burning tavern in Port

alking compass and a dead warlord's curse?

oin, and a bounty that'll see us gutted if we turn back. This is our

ing the oars harder. Marek just watched, silent again, his axe gleaming faintly in

den, but he kept his eyes on the horizon. Then it came-a shape, faint at first, clawing up from the sea. Jagged

pointing. "That's

pat. "You talk lik

st frothing white. The crew shouted, scrambling, but it was too late. The skiff flipped, hurling them into the dark.

and looming closer-too close. Wreckage bobbed around him, Torv's oar, Jyn's cloak. No sign of the crew. Pani

nd with a force that knocked him back. Its voice hi

ittered with bones. Something moved there-tall, shadowed, wa